


The Foxhole Apothecary

by attfna



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Exy (All For The Game), Assault, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mentions of past self-harm, Mild Sexual Content, Minor Character Death, Murder, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Poisoning, Writer Andrew, botanist neil, domestic abuse, mentions of scars, planning a murder together is the best foreplay, professor andrew, there are a lot of plants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:48:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29963883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attfna/pseuds/attfna
Summary: Neil has finally escaped the horrors of his childhood and become a successful botanist. But his life is once again thrown into disarray when he takes it upon himself to help an old friend.
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 38





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chubbytomato](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chubbytomato/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As with most things Neil does, things do not go as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my piece for the AFTG Reverse Big Bang 2021. All the amazing art is by [infinitesimalthings](http://infinitesimalthings.tumblr.com/).  
> Big thanks to my betas - Mary and [ThatHydrokinetic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatHydrokinetic).  
> ~*~
> 
> Chapter Rating: G

Neil Josten had been in dozens of dangerous and unfortunate situations before, but none as ridiculous as the position in which he currently found himself: with a bruise blooming across ribs and a rucksack full of poisonous plant clippings held tightly in his grip. His assailant, Andrew, stood a few feet away in the dark, silver moonlight glinting off the whipped peaks of blond, wavy hair. The man deftly flipped the handle of the rake in his hand, fingers clamping around the wood tighter, perhaps ready to take another swing. Neil blinked up at him for torturous seconds, trying to _will_ his lungs to reinflate. Despite his lack of oxygen, he still managed to scrabble backwards a few feet when Andrew tossed the garden tool to the ground. The blond shoved his hands in his pockets but didn’t advance further. 

For a moment there was a stalemate. Andrew looked down at Neil with curious boredom, eyes devoid of sympathy for Neil’s aching muscles and bones. Neil shifted uncomfortably, trying not to make eye contact and drawing his bag onto his shoulder where it had slipped off, making sure the gray hoodie he wore still covered his hair. He’d been wearing goggles and a mask pulled up over his mouth and nose while he worked, but the mask had slipped down in the scuffle and who knows which direction his goggles had been flung. The scars on his hands were obscured by translucent, latex gloves but his sleeves were shoved up in an effort to keep cool in the humid, August air. Hopefully Andrew hadn’t noticed wreckage on his arms in the dark. They were something that made him unique, identifiable. Just like the scars on his cheeks he was valiantly trying to keep out of sight. 

Movement sparked the end of the stalemate. Andrew shifted from one foot to the other, otherwise silent, and Neil managed to regain his bearings. In less than three seconds he yanked up the cowl around his neck, looked Andrew in the eye, and darted in the opposite direction. From the sound of pounding footsteps, he knew Andrew was following him. He also knew it would all be for naught. Years of running, using it as a crutch for avoiding all his issues, had allowed Neil to become very fast. So fast, he’d already reached the end of the property and cut through the field across the road before Andrew made it halfway down his driveway. 

He kept going. He ran through the maze of corn stalks and through someone's yard. A dog barked in the distance, but he didn’t stop. Not until he’d circled back around to his car, parked two miles from Andrew’s home in the driveway of a farmhouse with a ‘for-sale’ sign nailed to the front gate. 

As he drove back to his tiny, one-bedroom apartment, Neil turned over the night's events in his head like the replay of a bad television drama. How had he been so careless? He’d scoped out the property for _weeks_ . Andrew was never home on Friday nights. He should have had _at least_ three hours. He should have heard the tell-tale signs of wheels crunching along the gravel drive when he came home early. Should have been less distracted by the beauty of night-blooming Jasmine and the soft gradient of the trumpet shaped Foxgloves, bleeding white to lilac to deep purple down the stalks. _Should have, should have, should have._

The story of his life, really. 

But....at least he’d gotten what he came for.   
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting schedule will be every other day.


	2. Taking Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly just background information.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Chapter Rating: T (Mentions of past/ongoing abuse)

It began when Neil was only a child – when he was still ‘Nathaniel  Wesninski ,’ the unwanted son of a mobster. He’d grown up watching his father cut men apart in their basement, been forced to learn how to inflict the most amount of pain while keeping a victim alive. His mother hadn’t been much better, but Mary  Hatford still didn’t want her son twisted and tortured by his father, Nathan. So, when Neil was seven, she’d taken him and run. 

They didn’t get very far. Nathan’s men caught up to them and brought them back in a matter of weeks. She tried two more times before he decided the irritation wasn’t worth it and had her killed. At least, that’s what he’d told Neil, who had no reason to believe otherwise. His mother disappeared when he was eight and he never saw her again. 

When he was nine a deal went bad – or that’s what he remembered from the hushed whispers and his  father's furious voice over the phone as he held his ear up to the crack in the door. A few weeks later Neil was shipped off to a ‘private boarding school’ and thought he’d finally escaped. Fate had given him this small reprieve and he could have a life outside the prison-like walls of his father's manor. 

Unfortunately, Edgar Allen School of the Gifted, also known as ‘the nest’, was just another kind of prison. It was owned by Tetsuji Moriyama, second son to the Moriyama empire. By day they were traders and real estate moguls, by night they were the most notorious crime family on the east coast – the one Neil’s father reported to. While the branch family didn’t have any direct dealings with the  Moriyamas , they were involved in all sorts of businesses and run-offs so the main family could reap the benefits. One such venture was the school – a place to hone the talents of gifted children who would be indebted to them. Not only were they forced into ‘donating’ their time and money to the  Moriyamas when they found success, but they were expected to look the other way when someone from the main family came sniffing around to use their business for nefarious purposes. If you couldn’t hack the hazing or the archaic teaching methods you were cast out. In most cases it meant the children were tossed into the foster system, since most were unwanted by their families – it's how they were selected in the first place. In Neil’s case, he knew it meant death. He was given to Tetsuji as an act of good faith. To mend the bridge between his father and the  Moriyamas for some slight he’d committed. If he failed, he would be of no use to anyone.

For five years Neil stayed. He played nice. He held his tongue and took his punishments. Ran his body into the ground by running endless circles on the track when he thought there was no hope. But he also learned. He had friends for the first time in his life. Kevin Day was a smug know-it-all. Jean Moreau was a surly brat who insulted Neil in French until he’d started to pick up the language himself and been able to throw it right back. But they were friends of a sort.

Avoiding Riko’s wrath hadn’t been easy, nor very successful. Riko was Tetsuji’s nephew, another second son. He was the cast-off of the mafias current head, Kengo Moriyama, and just as unwanted as the rest of them. Jeans family had sold him in a situation similar to Neil’s and Kevin’s mother had been killed in a car accident when he was two and he had no other family to speak of. Tetsuji was acquainted with Kevin’s mother and had offered to take the boy and raise him alongside Riko. 

Because they were considered the ‘sons of Edgar Allen,’ Riko and Kevin had taken the brunt of their uncles vicious, pedagogic methods. More had been expected of them. And despite Neil being two years younger, they somehow adopted him into their elite group – all at the top of their class. Jean had been a whiz with computers – programming and coding since he was still below double digits. Kevin was fascinated with history and anthropology. Riko, as well. Though Neil suspected Riko’s venture into the same subjects as Kevin was more due to his fascination with his ‘adoptive brother’ and the need to out-perform him wherever he could. Neil’s focus was on mathematics and science – specifically biology. 

It wasn’t all bad. When Tetsuji didn’t have them kneeling on rice while they solved differential equations (where ‘Neil’ had earned his nickname after refusing to do as told one too many times) or wasn’t rapping their knuckles when they gave the wrong answer about some obscure geography question, they’d been able to do normal things. They played soccer in the courtyard and laughed when Kevin and Riko got overly competitive about a friendly game. They dusted off one of the ancient board games they’d found in the basement of the school and played for hours by candlelight. Once they even managed to sneak out to the nearby town and buy ice cream. They’d been discovered soon after and it had been their only successful jailbreak. Years later, Neil found himself wishing he hadn’t returned. That he’d kept running, just like his mother intended for them to do before she was killed. 

But he didn’t run and the older they got, the worse their treatment. Just after Neil turned thirteen, Kevin found a letter that could have changed his life. He and Neil had been snooping around Tetsuji’s office (Kevin for booze and Neil for the cigarettes that had been confiscated from one of the older students) and the letter had been locked in the top drawer of his desk. It had been embarrassingly easy to pick the lock, Neil thought at the time. Tetsuji should really have invested in better security. 

Instead of their bounty they found out about Kevin’s true parentage. His mother wrote to Tetsuji after he was born to let him know she had a son. And that her son’s father was David  Wymack . The next day they’d googled the man with Jean, so he could erase their tracks, and found out  Wymack was a college soccer coach in South Carolina. 

After that they never spoke of the letter or Kevin’s father. Neil knew he still looked him up sometimes, having suddenly taken an interest in NCAA soccer. But he shut Neil and Jean down when they tried to talk about it. When Riko found out what Kevin had been keeping from him, he broke Kevin’s hand in a fit of rage. Neil knew something had to change. He still had four years to go and the others had two and he wasn’t sure if they would make it. Either Riko or Tetsuji would damage them beyond  repair or they would lose themselves, one way or another. Jean was already showing signs of depression and Neil caught him once with a razor, sliding it along the top of his thigh and watching the red roll down onto the tiled floor. Neil snatched it away and demanded he stop hurting himself, that Jean come to him when he needed help. He never did.

Later that year Riko burned Neil’s cheeks for mouthing off when he refused to do Riko’s homework. He cut Neil’s arms and added more burns when Neil punched him for hitting Kevin in the stomach with a fireplace poker. And he’d cut Neil’s face when he found out Jean was cutting himself and Neil knew about it but didn’t say anything. Tetsuji seemed perpetually irritated by his nephews' lack of control, but not enough to do anything about it. Well, not more than to beat Riko for hours until he was angry enough to take his temper out on the rest of them when he recovered and could once again raise his own fists.

It took a year for Neil to enact his plan. He’d gotten friendly with one of the older students, a girl named Laila Dermott. She was quiet and twitchy, had come to the school when she was 11 from an orphanage. But she had done well and had a scholarship to go to Stanford. She, like most of the students, knew some of the things that took place behind closed doors and despite her obvious fear, she still met Neil in classrooms after hours to talk about a book they’d read or to share snacks the students smuggled in. When she left, it was with a letter from Neil and his plea for her to get the letter to his uncle in England. 

On January 28 th , only a week after Neil’s fourteenth birthday, his efforts paid off. Stuart  Hatford came for him during the  schools annual ‘charity’ fundraiser event. Only the older students  were allowed to attend, being forced to work the event, while the others were held under lock and key in the dormitory building. Since none of them knew what Stuart looked like, he’d bargained his way in with wads of cash as a donor and cornered Neil by the refreshment table where he was dressed as a waiter and keeping the canapes stocked from the kitchen. 

_ “Hello, Nathaniel,” Stuart said lowly, green eyes darting around the room to make sure no one was within earshot.  _

_ “It’s Neil,” he gritted out. He’d let the school, let his father take away so much, but he would fight for the name he’d chosen. Even with a stranger. _

_ “Is it?” smiled Stuart, sliding a hand into his pocket. “ _ _ Yes, _ _ I don’t suppose you would have wanted to keep your father’s name.” _

_ Neil eyed the man suspiciously, his first thought that he might be one of Nathan’s men, here to take him back. “Who are you?” _

_ The man pulled a slightly crumpled letter from his crisp, suit pocket. He let Neil glimpse the white  _ _ stationary _ _ and penmanship on the front just long enough for the recollection to sink in and then shoved it back out of sight.  _

_ “Uncle Stu...” _

_ “Shh...” Stuart took a step closer. “Don’t want anyone to know  _ _ I’m _ _ here, do we?” _

_ Neil nodded quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He’d seen a picture of Stuart once, in an album his mother had. But they were teens in the photo. The Stuart in front of him was a man in his mid-forties, with sandy brown hair and green eyes hidden behind gold rimmed glasses. His suit was well-tailored and everything about seemed so unassuming, so unthreatening.  _

_ “Why are you here?” Neil asked, looking down to rearrange the hors d'oeuvres. _

_ “To get you out, of course,” said Stuart, turning to lean against the table with his back to Neil but his ear craned in his direction. “Isn’t that what you asked for, in your letter?” _

_ “Well yea...but I...”  _ I didn’t think you would come. I didn’t think you would care.

_ A couple people were making their way towards the table so Stuart pushed off with instructions to meet him in the kitchen in ten minutes.  _

Neil left the Nest that night. He tried to convince Kevin and Jean to come with him, but they’d been so surprised they stared on in shock as Neil shoved his few belongings into his duffle. They wanted to stay.  _ ‘It’s only two more years...’ ‘How do you know your uncle isn’t worse? You said you don’t even know him!’ ‘He wouldn’t keep us, we’re not his family. The  _ _ Moriyamas _ _ won’t let him keep any of us.’  _ Maybe they were right. Maybe they were just scared. But Neil only had a small window of escape and he was taking it, with or without them. He felt guilty about it for years – leaving his friends behind. Kevin managed to contact him after he graduated but told Neil to never try and track him down. He was glad that they at least had forgiven him for leaving. 

For the next three years Neil continued his education in England. He learned that his father, as well as most of his men, had been killed in a hit ordered by Stuart. That he never had to go back to that life. So, he officially changed his name and attended public school (at his own request), building a reputation for being the scary, unfriendly American who kept to himself. He spent his afternoons wandering the vast gardens of his  uncles property, latching on to Ms. Fitz, the full-time landscaper who taught him to care for the plants. They reminded him of the gardens at home, a place his mother would take him when they needed to get out of the house, away from his  fathers moods or dirty dealings. As a small child he would chase butterflies, drop insects on his  mothers lap where she would startle and brush them off, scolding him lightly behind the hint of a smile. She read to him there too, perched on a wicker chair surrounded by roses and hydrangeas. And later he read to himself, curled up under shady bushes or trees, out of reach from the rest of the world. The gardens became the only place he felt at home, felt safe. 

He knew his uncle wasn’t as docile as he seemed, but he kept Neil away from his business and let him do as he pleased. The most influence he tried to have over his nephew was when he encouraged him to go to  Cambridge for university, his alma mater. But Neil had his eyes set on the University of Columbia in South Carolina. It was a smaller, private college but had one of the top botany programs in the country. Neil had earned himself a scholarship with his final biology project, which also named him the recipient of the British Botanical Society's Young Botanist Award. 

At first the prospect of returning to the United States seemed terrifying. There had been many nights full of sleeplessness and unwanted dreams. Panic attacks and indecision. But once he was on the plane, crossing an ocean that had once seemed like a security blanket, he knew there was no turning back. 

He completed his bachelor’s and then his master's degrees. Even made a few friends along the way. After graduating, he flitted from job to low paying job, taking what he could get despite his stellar grades and academic achievements. Kevin, who he still had intermittent contact with, had become the director of the Anthropology department at a museum in Richmond, Virginia, where Riko had been hired as the curator. Neil’s jealousy simmered whenever he read a newspaper article about them or Kevin texted him from a burner phone. Without the Moriyama name or influence behind him, Neil’s career moved much slower and he tried to ignore the tinge of regret that crept up like bile whenever he thought about his former friend. 

But he needn’t have been jealous, a fact which became crystal clear in later years. Neil only saw Kevin once in person after he left the nest. It was by complete happenstance – a conference they were both attending in North Carolina. Kevin was a speaker and Neil was in the first year of his master's program. It had been like seeing a ghost. 

They went for drinks that night in a small pub a few miles away from campus and Kevin filled him in on the things he could stomach talking about. He’d graduated and gone to Yale with Riko and Jean, living with them in an apartment for four years. Jean and Riko had dated briefly their freshman year but then Jean had... ‘ _ gone back to France _ .’ Neil held his tongue but something about the way Kevin worded it, about the way he glossed over the details made Neil suspicious. Besides, he would never believe the  Moriyamas would give up one of their assets so easily. The night ended when Kevin told Neil he’d been with Riko for more than two years and they were engaged. Neil immediately laid into his old friend, something that wasn’t his place anymore but he knew if he kept  quiet he would regret it. Kevin blew him off with a wave of his hand and kicked back another shot of vodka. They parted ways that night with Neil calling Kevin Riko’s ‘idiot pet’ and Kevin shouting at Neil that he had no right to pass judgement when he’d left them all behind.

It took weeks for the anger to subside, for the reality that he couldn’t make Kevin do anything, even if it was for his own good. Anger at himself for not pushing harder to have them rescued and anger at the pair of them for never finding their own way out. Kevin didn’t contact him for another six years. And when he did, it set into motion things that wouldn’t be able to be undone


	3. Snake in the Garden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Neil isn't as good at getting away with things as he'd like to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Rating: T (talk of domestic abuse)

The Palmetto Museum of Natural history was where Neil spent most of his time these days. He’d been hired a few years ago to tend the plants in the butterfly exhibit and then as a researcher in the herbarium. Now, having just completed his PhD, he was the Director of Botany and supervised six people who worked in exhibits and another four who worked in the research department. He loved his job. Most days he only interacted with a handful of his own staff and spent his lunch breaks eating alone in the well-manicured courtyards, a book in hand and a Tupperware full of fruit on the stone table. It was too hot today, so he took his cut melon and peanut butter sandwich to the storage room at the back of the research lab. No one else was around, which was how he preferred it. Especially since he needed to discreetly ‘borrow’ some equipment. After carefully wrapping and shoving several items into his gym bag, Neil perched on the edge of a small folding table to eat. 

His mind wandered to the clippings he’d catalogued and labeled the night before, ready and waiting to be prodded and experimented with as his free time allowed. 

When Kevin contacted him two months ago it threw Neil through a loop. His boring, predictable, safe life was once again disrupted by his past and it felt as though the world tilted sideways. Kevin was asking him for help; something he never thought would happen. His first instinct had been to tell the older man to shove it, since he’d offered his help twice before and Kevin ignored it in favor of furthering his masochistic tendencies. Well, no. Not really. That wasn’t fair. Neil knew better than anyone his attachment to the nest, to Riko, was little more than Stockholm syndrome. It still pissed him off. Though not enough to ignore that fateful phone call. 

He met Kevin at a bus stop in North Carolina, the one closest to the conference they’d met at years before. His skin that was exposed in the large hoodie he wore was black and blue and he curled in on himself protectively when Neil reached out to him once they were alone. Neil recoiled his hand and instead took Kevin’s bag, leading him towards his blue Toyota that had seen better days. It managed to get them back to Neil’s apartment in one piece and Kevin finally let himself be checked over. His ribs were smattered with bruises, both new and old, some probably broken. He had a cut on his collarbone that might need stitches, and his nose was swollen and the pale skin under his eyes turning purple with bruising and exhaustion.

They didn’t speak for the rest of that night. Kevin let Neil tend to his wounds and went to bed without a word. The next day Neil demanded answers and Kevin gave them, like rain, lightning and thunder, all bursting from an overwhelmed storm cloud. Once he started talking, Neil didn’t think he knew how to turn it off. He told Neil everything – how Riko, now his husband, had abused both him and Jean for years after they left the nest. How Jean had disappeared one day and Kevin was sure Riko killed him. He received a few shady post cards in the year after his disappearance but when Kevin was able to reach out, no one was able to find Jean. 

He told Neil how the museum they worked at was being used to move stolen antiquities and Riko was setting up an intricate plot to blame one of their coworkers should anything go wrong. How Riko had beat him nearly to death when Kevin said they should leave Shaun, the coworker, out of it since he was innocent. And he also told Neil how he didn’t have anyone anymore. Riko cut him off from all his friends and colleagues he’d gained through college and no there was no one. 

_ “What about your father?” _ Neil had asked. Kevin only shook his head, a noise that was halfway between a sob and a laugh choking out as he wondered aloud why  Wymack would want anything to do with a son in his thirties who he’d never met before. 

Fair enough. But Neil knew better than anyone that quality was better than quantity. He had a few close friends himself. He hadn’t yet trusted anyone with his past, not completely. But he had built a life for himself and mostly trusted the people he was closest to. And maybe he’d been a shitty friend. Kevin had been a shitty friend too, but they still had each other. 

Neil encouraged him to leave again, but this time when Kevin spewed excuses, Neil knew he was right. No one would believe Kevin about Riko. The  Moriyamas would cover for him and hire a lawyer worth their empire in gold in order to save face if Kevin ever tried to bring charges against him. And it would be an easy case to win, claiming Kevin was just a clumsy drunk, something anyone who had ever met him could acknowledge and a blood alcohol test would probably back up since his drinking habits had become more pronounced over the years.

_ “Kevin,” Neil said seriously. “It’s a death sentence if you stay.” _

_ “It is a death sentence if I go.” _

He dropped Kevin off at the bus station three days later with a heavy heart and resolve settling in his gut. They hadn’t come to any sort of agreement, but the night before Neil had whispered to Kevin’s barely conscious form that he would take care of it. And he meant it. 

Which was what led him to venture into a life of crime two nights ago. 

Neil was going to kill Riko. He was going to rid the world of that toxic excuse for a human who hurt him when he was just a kid. Who was still hurting his friend, probably killed another one of them. Riko wouldn’t stop. His notoriety and family name would protect him from consequences and he would destroy everything he touched beyond repair. Neil couldn’t let that happen to Kevin. To his first friend. So, Neil was going to kill him. 

He brainstormed for more than a week, thinking of inventive ways to cast Riko from this plane of existence. Ways to cause pain and make it last for hours. He shuddered at the thought, feeling a little too like his father for the briefest of moments. No. He didn’t need Riko to hurt, he just needed him gone. 

_ “Stick to what you’re good at Junior,” his father told him once, a cleaver in hand and a man’s severed foot in the other. The man in question lay bleeding out on the metal slab in their basement, his mouth gagged with a rag. He stopped bleeding a few moments later when his father cauterized the wound with a blowtorch.  _

Neil wasn’t good at murder...at least, he hoped he wasn’t. He didn’t want to be like any of them. But he hoped he had the stomach for at least this one. 

What he was good at, was botany. He understood plants more than he understood people – their physiology, classifications, properties and applications for medicinal uses and the economic importance of each species. And he knew exactly what sort of plants could kill a man without leaving a trace. 

It seemed simple enough – concoct a poison, get the asshole to ingest it, reap the benefits of a world without Riko Moriyama.

Getting ahold of such plants was more difficult. Most of them weren’t native to the area and would be difficult to procure – even for someone in his position. Not to mention, anything they had at the lab was carefully catalogued and accounted for and it would be obvious if it went missing. They didn’t grow most of them in-house, only had samples from around the world used for research. 

So, when Renee Walker, one of Neil’s acquaintances who owned an herbal shop in town told him where he could find what he needed, it seemed like fate. Renee wasn’t his friend per-say, though she would probably consider him one if asked. Her shop, ‘Elder Herbals,’ was right next to his friend Dan’s bakery and they started talking one day when Neil wandered in to check out the store. For the most part he found it pretentious – a bunch of organic lotions and bath salts with expensive, but rustic packaging. But he’d been impressed with her teas and tinctures, loose-leaf bundles of herbs that were properly labeled for their medicinal qualities. She’d been in the bakery one morning while Neil sat at his regular table with a blueberry scone and green tea smoothie, trying to ignore the bustle of customers. 

_ “Hello, Neil,” said Renee, dropping into the open seat across from him.  _

_ She had a muffin in one hand and an iced coffee in the other, her blond hair still streaked with pastels at the ends. She looked far too awake for seven am. Neil usually woke with the sun to go for his morning run, but had never been fond of talking to people before he clocked in at work at eight.  _

_ “Oh...hi,” he said, mustering a small smile in lieu of any enthusiasm.  _

_ “How are you?”  _

_ Small talk, great.  _

_ They went back and forth for a few minutes, though once the topic turned to plants, Neil’s interest piqued and he actually engaged in the conversation. Somehow, they’d gone from her new shipment of lavender, to one of her customers complaining the chamomile tea she bought upset her stomach instead of settling it, to her friend who grew extremely poisonous and extremely rare plants on his property.  _

_ “Like what?” Neil asked, taking a bite of his scone and skimming his text messages, as not to seem too interested.  _

_ “Oh, you know, the works. Rosary peas, nightshade, oleander, hemlock...anything he could get his hands on. Probably not always in the most legal ways,” smiled Renee. _

_ “Any particular reason?”  _

_ Renee shrugged and sipped her coffee. “I’m sure he has one. Andrew isn’t the type to do things without a purpose. Though, perhaps he just enjoys them? You can relate, I’m sure. In fact, I think if you two ever met you’d get along quite well.”  _

_ He ignored the little smirk she hid behind her cup and drummed his fingers on the counter.  _

_ “Who are we talking about?” Matt sidled up to them with Neil’s to-go box of scones, extra blueberries, made just for him.  _

_ “I was just telling Neil about Andrew,” offered Renee, gesturing across the table.  _

_ Matt slapped a rag over his shoulder and put his hands in the pocket of his flour-covered apron. “Oh yea? Haven’t heard that name in a while...how’s he doing?” _

_ “You know him?” Neil interjected, immediately recoiling at the bright smile Matt gave him. A sure sign that he’d noticed Neil’s interest.  _

_ “Sure. Dan, Renee and I went to school with him at Palmetto. He and his brother were a year behind me but he and Renee were  _ _ close, _ _ so he was around,” Matt turned back to Renee. “I heard he teaches there now.” _

_ “Yes, he does. Gothic literature.” _

_ For some reason Matt rolled his eyes _

That was a month ago. Neil googled this ‘Andrew’ and found a few articles online about his academic achievements and his photo on the university’s website. 

He also got a look at the man in person a few days later. It was the weekend, but he had to make a trip to the bakery. Renee was locking up her own store and heading down the sidewalk with a familiar blond at her side. He was shorter in person than Neil thought, a few inches smaller than even he was, but he seemed to be built like a tank – strong and unmovable. He was dressed in joggers and a tank top, with black bands covering his forearms. Renee was also in workout attire and the bags over their shoulders indicated they were heading for the one gym in town. Briefly, Neil wondered why he’d never seen them there before, but he tended to only go in the early mornings when it was too hot or too rainy to run outside, and sometimes in the afternoons immediately after work to use their free weights. 

That Sunday was an anomaly. Neil needed to swing by the bakery to order pastries for a staff meeting and macarons for  an employee’s upcoming birthday since he’d been reminded the previous year that it was rude to refer to birthdays as a ‘meaningless way to mark the passage of time.’ He shuffled out to his car, returning Renee’s wave with a quick one of his own and made a point not to make eye contact with Andrew. 

For the next few weeks Neil staked out Andrew's house. He already knew his work schedule, thanks to being able to download his courses from the Palmetto State website. And when he wasn’t at work, he was usually home – with the exception of Sundays, where he apparently met up with Renee, and Friday nights, where he disappeared for a few hours in his black beast of a car that Neil had yet to get a good look at since he parked so far away from the property. 

He didn’t know where Andrew went on Friday nights, but that was his best window. Andrew didn’t usually leave until nine or ten in the evening and returned anywhere between two to three am. He didn’t have neighbors close by and only left the front-porch light on. 

Neil waited an hour after he left to make his move, slinking quietly between the tall grass up the side of the property, along an old stone wall. He hopped the short wall once he reached the back and pushed his way past a shed and two massive maple trees with a hammock between them.

There were more maples closer to the house but the property line was dotted with birch trees and oaks, enclosing the space and making the yard seem even more dense with foliage than it might have been. But there were plants everywhere. Bushes and hedges. Flowers were  smattered along the beds in the back of the house and the pathways that weaved around the yard. Flat stepping stones were pressed into the ground and marked the way, but it seemed to be a maze. 

There was no rhyme or reason to the layout, and everywhere Neil looked he saw one surprise after another – white baneberry looming over a chipped garden gnome, lily of the valley drooping across a tipped-over watering can. Hemlock sprouted tall next to the stone fence on the other side of the house, right next to a patch of innocent wildflowers in a riot of colors. At the base of one of the maple trees, a miniature forest of Foxgloves, blue, purple and pink circled the trunk like a protective shield. Neil had stared up at the moon briefly, wishing he could see the garden in the daylight. It was haunting at night, beautiful and wild, deadly flora co-mingled with innocuous shrubbery in such a unique way it had to be intentional. But he wanted to see them come to life under the sun.

He’d gone to work, slower than intended since he kept getting distracted, and an hour later had clippings of several of the plants that he would test for poisons. Unfortunately, an hour later, he also took a rake to the gut when Andrew decided to come home early. 

Neil was making a valiant effort to forget that part of the night. The next day he’d been paranoid and jittery, jumping at every little noise. His cat, Queenie, hopping onto the back of the couch when he’d sat down to eat probably took three years off his life. But Saturday passed, and then Sunday, and he didn’t have any surprises. It was unlikely Andrew would have recognized him. They only crossed paths once before and Neil was sure Andrew didn’t get a good look at him by the bakery, nor when he’d knocked Neil on his ass in his backyard. It was fine. He got what he needed and could proceed with his plan without any hiccups. 

Neil finished his lunch on Monday, wiped his hands on his pants as he left the storage room – running directly into the hiccup. 

Andrew, dressed oddly compared to what Neil had seen him in before, wore a pair of dark gray slacks and a lightweight, blue sweater, stood beside one of his exhibits’ staff. 

“This guy was asking for you,” said Seth, flicking a thumb back at Andrew, though he was tall enough that the space he indicated was well over Andrew’s head. “Says he knows you.”

This was just a coincidence, right? He didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly....

Shifting his weight to his other foot, Andrew twirled the clear goggles around his index finger, casting a heavy gaze on Neil as he gave him a once over. 

_ Fuck.  _

“Oh um...yea. We have....an appointment.”

Seth just shrugged and turned to leave. The dumbass. Neil was  definitely  _ not _ giving him those macarons now. Social etiquette be damned.

They stared at one another, waiting for the door behind them to close. Neil walked around to lock the door behind Seth while Andrew slowly crept down the aisle, his left-hand skimming over top the long tables that spanned the length of the room. There were trays of seedlings, loose papers and notebooks, an open laptop and other glass equipment. Farther down, there were storage containers open with some of their contents, fossilized plant matter, strewn about the desk while they were catalogued for a new exhibit. Neil followed him, making sure to stay out of arms reach. Andrew abruptly turned halfway down the room and tossed the goggles onto the table; they landed on top of a large succulent. 

Drumming his taped knuckles on the metal surface, Andrew’s eyes bounced around the room. When they finally landed on Neil, he no longer wore the expression of a bored passerby who accidentally wandered in the museum. His features were still mostly neutral, but his eyes were furious. Neil knew that look, the quiet wrath of someone who was biding their time. A snake waiting to strike. He’d seen that same guise on his father’s face enough to recognize it.

“I will take that explanation now.”


	4. The Truth Will Set You Free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neil makes more questionable decisions because he is a DISASTER. Andrew is intrigued. And predictable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You will find I made up most of this shit about plants. I know fuck all about botany and only did minimal research. Bon Appétit.
> 
> ~*~
> 
> Chapter Rating: T (non-consensual drugging, conspiring to murder)

“I don’t know what you’re....” Neil started, but the thoroughly unamused, dangerous glare Andrew was giving him made him change course. “Okay fine, yes. I trespassed. You gonna call the cops or something?” 

No. Andrew didn’t seem like a cop-calling kind of person. He seemed more like a I'll-stab-you-in-the-gut-if-you-lie-to-me kind of person. 

“Considering it was my private property you violated, I think I am the one asking questions here,” said Andrew, taking a step closer. Neil forced himself to remain put. “What were you doing there?” 

“I like plants...” he said quickly, unconvincingly. 

“You like....” 

“....Plants,” Neil said again, arm sweeping in a broad gesture around the room. “What, it’s plausible you somehow remembered me after seeing me for twenty seconds but not for a botanist to have an interest in rare plants?” 

“Your eyes are hard to forget.” 

Neil looked away, cutting an icy look to the side. He landed on the goggles and he reached out, plucking them away from the succulent. 

After a long moment his gaze drifted back. Andrew was still watching him, pools of liquid gold darkened with concentration. He looked less angry now. Like he was trying to work something out. Neil just wished he knew what it was. When Andrew took another step, Neil had to tip his chin down to meet his stare. 

“Um...so...what now?” Neil asked carefully, hands wringing around the plastic eye protectors. 

“Now....” Andrew said, reaching up to hook a finger in the collar of Neil’s shirt, hauling him closer. He had to blink so he wouldn’t go cross-eyed. “Now...you come to mine tonight and explain what the fuck you plan to do with everything you stole, or I go to the police. I think they would be quite interested in what some of those plants can do in the wrong hands. Or the right ones.” 

When Andrew let go, Neil took a step back, fighting to keep his expression calm. The last thing he needed was to have someone sniffing around. He’d never be able to help Kevin if someone caught on too soon. And while he was pretty sure Andrew was bluffing, he didn’t know the man so maybe he wasn’t. Could he afford to take the risk? 

Neil gritted his teeth. “Fine.” 

“Eight o’clock,” said Andrew, giving him a two-fingered salute before he turned. “If you don’t show I know where to find you.” 

The door to the lab shut heavily, causing the walls to shudder. Neil waited a few beats before swearing loudly into the silence. He’d have to come up with something to tell Andrew. He couldn’t risk him going to the police, but he also couldn’t tell him the truth. Then he’d _definitely_ go to the police. Fuck. How did he always end up in situations like this? 

“He seemed....nice,” said Seth, opening the door to the lab and snapping Neil from his quiet breakdown. 

“Nice? By what measurement? A scale of mildly unfriendly to you?” Neil grunted, shoving the goggles in a drawer. 

“Wow, rude. I happen to be very fucking nice, thank you very much. I can’t believe you’re calling me out like this. And on my _birthday_. For shame, Josten.” 

Anyone else might think he was serious, but Neil could hear the joking lilt in his words, see the way his cheek twitched in an effort not to smile. This was their thing. They picked at each other and tried out their best witty one-liners before using them to shame people they didn’t like for real. 

“Yea, yea. Go get your birthday macarons from the breakroom before I choke you with them,” said Neil, rolling his eyes as he passed. 

Seth turned and held his hands over his chest, walking backwards towards the lounge. “Be still my heart. Boss man does care about us...” 

His middle finger flicked up as he headed for the exit, hearing Seth’s chuckle as he left the lab. Maybe he would leave early. He had some serious brainstorming to do. For once he missed the good ol’ days where he knew how to lie better. 

🌿 

The inside of Andrew’s home was both what Neil expected and vastly different. The outside of the house was enclosed in black shake siding with a few feet of dark grey stone wrapping around the foundation. On the interior, the walls were just as dark and the accents were the same stone, covering the fireplace and wrapping around the kitchen island. It was open and yet cozy at the same time, a large space made smaller by inviting clutter. There were books everywhere, along with throw pillows and blankets, all mismatched, muted earth tones. The furniture was mismatched as well, but tasteful. Somehow, it all worked. 

But what Neil noticed first were the plants. They were everywhere. And well taken care of. There were succulents lining the windowsill and ferns hanging from the ceiling. The corners sported large philodendrons and he could just make out two long planters with several herbs in each, sitting in the kitchen window. But all of these were innocuous. Fairly harmless. A stark difference from what Neil knew was buried just beyond the doors. 

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this. Andrew was a professor, a friend of Renee’s, but somehow Neil saw him living in the middle of the city in a tasteful, yet barely decorated modern apartment. Not parking his hundred-thousand-dollar car (Neil had watched him pull away from the Museum earlier in a Maserati) in a garage attached to a unique country cottage that looked like it might belong to an old witch with a lot of cats.   
  
Speaking of, there were two that Neil noticed. Suspicious-looking felines who stood to his left at the end of the short hall off the entrance. Their tails flicked behind them and their twin glares made him feel like he was in a horror movie, and if he turned around the walls would be smeared with backwards threats written in blood. 

But there wasn’t any blood, only Andrew, pointing to a small wooden structure against the wall that seemed to house several pairs of shoes. Neil discarded his sneakers and followed Andrew a little farther inside, his socked feet sliding easily along the decorative parquet flooring. 

“I don’t think they like me very much,” said Neil, jamming his thumb behind him as they walked.   
  
The cats were following, though leaving several paces of distance between them. When Neil paused to look, one of them hissed. 

“Animals are very good judges of character,” sighed Andrew, reaching up in a cabinet to retrieve something. 

Half of him was concealed by the island but Neil bet he was standing on the tips of his toes, based on the way he was struggling with whatever was above him. A moment later he emerged victorious with a tin of tea in his hand. He filled two metal balls with loose, fragrant leaves and turned to grab a glass kettle from the stove. Andrew waited a few seconds for the bubbling inside to stop before pouring water into the mugs, drowning the tea strainers. 

Andrew finished off his own with a little honey and a shot of some amber liquid from a fancy, crystal decanter, which Neil waved away when he offered it up, pulling his own cup across the counter as it was. He picked up the chain and let the ball bob up and down, a rosy color blooming from the leaves, mixing with the water in intricate swirls. The cats slithered around Andrews legs’, mewling, as he moved from behind the counter to head for the living room. As soon as Neil began to follow, they scattered, disappearing from the room once more. 

For several minutes after sinking into cushions on opposite ends of Andrew’s plush, olive colored couch, they sipped their tea in silence. Neil could feel Andrew’s eyes boring into his temples as he turned his attention to his steaming mug, trying to keep from making eye contact. He’d been a good liar once. It had gotten him out of trouble more times than he could count at the Nest. Of course, his sharp tongue had also gotten him _into_ a lot of trouble as well. Which was why he had a perfectly concocted story. A reasonable explanation as to why he’d snuck into a stranger’s back-yard and stole a bunch of highly poisonous plant clippings. No problem. 

Unfortunately, Andrew didn’t seem to be buying any of it. After becoming impatient he finally waved his hand in a ‘well, go ahead’ motion as Neil was halfway through his tea. So, he told his story. A boring tale about a curious botanist who just wanted to study rare plants, and after learning someone locally had them all, seemed easier to ‘borrow’ a few rather than try to get permission from the USDA to have them shipped in from a supplier. Andrew listened without interrupting, his index finger occasionally drumming on his mug where it clung to the ceramic. 

“Dr. Josten...” Andrew sighed. 

“It’s Neil....I mean. Neil is fine,” Neil stumbled over the words. Unsure as to why he was giving Andrew permission to use his first name. He’d worked hard for that doctorate and often when people got too casual liked to remind them of it. 

Andrew blinked slowly but otherwise didn’t react. “Neil. You expect me to believe you came onto my property in the middle of the night to steal plant clippings for....research?” 

“It’s the truth,” Neil gritted out. 

Andrew hummed and finished his mug, setting it on the table so Neil did the same, swallowing the rest of the contents. 

“What if I do not believe you?” asked Andrew, his face a blank mask. There was nothing there. No suspicion. No anger. No annoyance. He was completely in control. 

It rankled Neil. Anyone who was that calm when they had every right to be pissed off was dangerous. Andrew knew something or was planning something he wasn’t saying. 

Still, Neil held his ground. “Then it sounds like you have a problem.” 

“It seems my problem is you,” countered Andrew, without missing a beat. 

Neil sighed and ran a hand across his face, forcing his fingers into his hair to push the curls from his eyes. “Look...I don’t know what to tell yo...” 

He stopped short at the sight behind Andrew. To his right, near the window of the house, were the cats. Only now there were six. Three black and white, three mottled black and brown. Identical. Sitting in a perfect circle. Their tails all flicked in unison. That....that wasn’t normal. Right? 

When he looked back to Andrew the blonds hair was streaked with thin strands of gold, shining so brightly it was almost blinding. 

“Wh....wha...” Neil slurred, unable to get the rest of the words out. 

Whatever remaining cognition he had left realized, too late, that his tea had been dosed with something. He looked to the mug and back to Andrew, a hand bracing behind him, fingers tightening in the fabric of the cushion. 

“Drug...” he managed. 

Andrew leaned casually to the side, his shoulder pressed to the back of the couch. He still looked calm and his voice was void of inflection when he spoke, though Neil was having difficulty focusing on him. 

“Caught on?” asked Andrew. “Took you less time than I thought. I suppose your expertise in the field isn’t a sham.” 

Neil pitched forward, planting his hands on the surface in front of him. Expertise? Of course...he fucking... 

“What...what was...?” 

“Salvia, of course,” Andrew said, understanding the question. “You must have noticed it in the garden.” 

_Fuck._ Salvia was a hallucinogen. And more, but at the moment that was all Neil’s brain would supply. What it did know, was that he needed to get the hell out of here. This was...wrong. Something was wrong. Andrew had drugged him....why? Did he know about Kevin? Did he know Riko? Why would... 

Neil stood abruptly and backed up, stumbling a little when he reached out to steady himself but only hit air. Then his knee knocked into the end table and the lamp fell over, the bulb shattering. 

“It will wear off in a couple hours. Until then, we can have a nice chat with a little more truth-telling involved,” drawled Andrew, standing and taking a step closer. 

“Fuck you!” Neil managed to say, just before tripping again and making his way around the couch, trying to give the broken glass a wide berth. 

Doubling back, Andrew blocked his path. Neil took an ill-advised swing but Andrew deflected it easy, holding his arm and spinning them. Neil’s thighs pressed into the couch, his arm stuck between his back and Andrew’s front. Before he could even think of a way to break the hold Andrew crowded against his back, wrapping an arm around his neck in a chokehold. 

Struggling was futile. Neil’s limbs felt too heavy and barely attached, his mind was spinning and everything had gone bright – washed-out like sun blaring down on a beach. He could feel Andrew’s muscles flexing around him and knew he couldn’t break free. But it didn’t seem like Andrew was trying to actually choke him. The hold was tight enough to control Neil’s movement but loose enough that he could breathe. So, he did, feeling Andrew’s breaths puffing against the back of his ear. 

“Lemme...lemme go. I won’t...I won’t hurt...” 

Suddenly his mind exploded into bubbles of greens and pinks and golds. He couldn’t chase one single thought, couldn’t pin anything down. He could only float. Until the darkness took him. 

🌿 

Coming back to consciousness happened in waves. First, Neil noticed how warm and heavy he felt. Though this time it wasn’t because his head was spinning and his limbs were useless. There was something draped over his body, soft and keeping the heat locked around him. His face felt cool and the room smelled like lavender and cloves. 

Something shifted at his feet but he didn’t dare open his eyes yet. He needed a moment to think clearly. Unfortunately, as soon as he realized there was padded metal encircling his wrists, pinned above his head, he involuntarily gave them a yank. It must have given away his state of awareness because a voice called out a second later. _Damnit_. 

“Welcome back, sleeping beauty. Have a nice nap?” 

Neil opened his eyes, cracking each lid one after the other. The light in the room was dim, just a small table lamp casting a soft glow. The curtains were thin and he could see it was still dark out. He was on a bed in an unfamiliar place, likely still Andrew’s house since the cats were sitting on the end of the bed – just two, thankfully. They watched him suspiciously and when he tipped his chin to look down to his feet, they gracefully leapt to the floor. 

Looking past the end of the bed, Andrew stood with his arms crossed, leaning in the open-door frame. Neil gave another yank of the handcuffs that bound him to the metal frame, which was much sturdier than he thought it should be, and glared at Andrew. 

“Fuck you,” spat Neil, his mouth dry and shoulders aching. 

“You said that already,” said Andrew. 

Uncrossing his arms, the blond stepped inside the room, walking around to sit on the end of the bed. He reached out without looking to locate one of Neil’s ankles, hand curling around it over top of the blanket. Neil tried to flinch away but was too slow. 

“You can’t keep me here. I told people where I was...they will be looking for me,” tried Neil. 

“No, you didn’t.” Huffing what could almost be considered a laugh, Andrew shook his head. “You didn’t tell anyone anything, did you Neil?” 

“How would you...” 

“You are very bad at this,” Andrew said, squeezing his ankle so hard it would probably hurt if the blanket wasn’t acting as a buffer. “I will make a deal with you. You tell me the truth about the plants...I let you go. Simple enough?” 

Shaking his leg again, though not breaking Andrew’s strong grip, Neil pulled himself up on the pillows a few more inches. “Why should I believe you? You drugged me and handcuffed me to a bed.” 

“Believe what you want. But if you want to leave you will tell me the truth. If I decide you’re not a threat, I will let you go,” Andrew said, finally letting go. 

Neil scoffed. “If you decide? What do you...I’m not a threat, okay! I don’t want to hurt anyone.” 

Standing, Andrew idly wandered over to the window, pushing aside the curtains. Moonlight streamed in, silvery haze mixing with the muted golds of the artificial lighting. 

“Why does that sound like a truth wrapped in a lie?” asked Andrew. 

When Neil didn’t respond immediately, Andrew groped at his back pockets, locating a pack of cigarettes. He opened the window and sat on the wide sill, lighting the stick and sucking in a lungful of smoke before blowing it into the balmy night air. 

“.....I don’t want to hurt anyone that matters,” Neil amended. 

He was slowly becoming aware of his situation. He’d gone to Andrew’s house without telling a soul. The only person who had seen him with Andrew was Seth, who likely forgot immediately. And Renee had told Neil about him, but Neil had been careful not to react to her story about the man, just his peculiar gardening habits. The truth was...people might look for him, but no one would know where to find him. And if Andrew was willing to dose him with herbs and hold him prisoner, he likely wasn’t bluffing. He might have to give him something truth adjacent, at the very least. 

“Oh?” asked Andrew, waving a hand as an invitation to keep talking. 

“I have a...friend. Someone I’ve known for a long time. Someone is hurting him. I want them to stop.” 

Andrew turned at that, spinning so he was mostly facing the bed. He rubbed the end of the half-smoked butt in the metal crease of the frame before blowing out another smoky breath. Shutting the window, Andrew moved to stand beside the bed. As short as he was standing there, something was still incredibly intimidating about the man. Something more menacing than should be attributed to a university English professor. 

“Is this... _friend_...somehow incapable of taking care of himself?” asked Andrew. 

For a moment Neil saw the crack in his mask, a hint of curiosity. That was to be expected. What Neil didn’t expect was for him to look more intrigued than disturbed at the fact that Neil just mentioned he basically planned on poisoning someone. 

He shifted under the blankets. “After a fashion, yes. There isn’t any other way to save him.” 

Andrew hummed. His arms were crossed again and Neil watched the finger tapping against his bicep. “So, you decided using toxic plants was the best method for this....unfortunate accident? You do realize we are in the 21st century, right?” 

Neil sighed and yanked the cuffs once more. “Look...I’ll...we can talk. But can you just let me go? You made it perfectly clear last night...earlier...what time is it??? Anyways....you can clearly take care of yourself, so it won’t hurt to untie me.” 

The charged stare down between them lasted for minutes. Neil could see Andrew was trying to work out if he really was a threat. When he finally unlocked the cuffs, Neil sat up and rubbed his wrists. They were red but the skin wasn’t broken and the indention's weren’t too deep – they likely hadn’t been on for more than an hour or two. 

As he pushed himself to a sitting position, Neil pressed three fingers to his temples. His head hurt but he felt otherwise healthy. Salvia, when dosed properly, didn’t have long-lasting effects. So why even bother? 

“Why the salvia?” asked Neil, throwing off the blanket and spinning so his legs dangled off the side of the bed. 

Andrew had returned to the door frame and shrugged once. “It was handy. Some people become more compliant when they’re tripping. But clearly you were hallucinating. I didn’t want you running amok and breaking all my shit, so I put you in the bed.” 

“Right...well since that’s completely normal,” said Neil, rolling his eyes. 

He stood and Andrew backed out of the doorway a few paces when Neil advanced. “And stealing poisonous plants to murder someone is?” 

They made their way back into the living room and Neil reluctantly sat on the couch. He was tired and groggy. He could probably drive but it might be better if he waited. Besides, he was sure Andrew wouldn’t let him go just yet. 

Returning from the kitchen, Andrew pressed a bottle of water into Neil’s hands. He took it but examined the seal. It seemed unbroken. But then, he hadn’t seen Andrew dose the tea either. He opened it and sniffed the top. Rolling his eyes, Andrew leaned forward, took the water and took a swig. He handed it back with raised brows and an irritated scowl. Neil took a tentative sip, the absence of any taste a relief. It was just water. 

“Maybe it’s not,” said Neil, answering Andrew’s last question. “But neither is whatever non-reaction you seem to be having.” 

Andrew hummed. He leaned against the back of the armrest with his knees up to his chest. His left hand dropped off to the side and one of the cats slinked by, arching its back into his fingertips. The other hovered by the window. They seemed to be getting braver in Neil’s presence. 

“Does anything that happened tonight make you think this is the most nefarious plan I’ve been involved with in my life?” asked Andrew. 

Neil leaned forward. “You’re not....you’re not _involved_. I would never put someone else in that position.” 

“But you have, _Dr. Josten_ ,” Andrew said flatly. “I don’t know what combination of those plants you intend to use but how many people have access to those specific species?” 

Blinking several times, Neil broke eye contact and stared at the dormant fireplace. Was Andrew right? Could this all be linked back to him if something went wrong? He didn’t plan on getting caught, but if something did happen then he was prepared to deal with the consequences. He wasn’t prepared to drag anyone else into his mess. 

“Stop it,” said Andrew, jarring Neil from his thoughts. “I can see your single brain-cell about to spontaneously combust. Just tell me your plan.” 

“My plan.” 

“Yes. I assume you have some half-concocted scheme that will likely end with you in prison for the rest of your life. Or dead. So, let’s hear it.” 

_Is he for real?_

Neil blinked again, the corner of his mouth ticking up. “Why the fuck would I tell you anything? I don’t even know you.” 

It took a moment for Andrew to respond, casting a considering gaze on Neil. He tipped his head to the side. “A truth for a truth. I will tell you something and then you return the favor.” 

“I hardly think anything you’re going to tell me will be the equivalent of my _alleged_ murder plot,” Neil scoffed. 

“Fourteen years ago I killed my biological mother,” Andrew said simply. 

Water dribbled from Neil’s chin. He hastily wiped it away with the back of his hand, gaping at Andrew. He was joking. It was a joke. It had to be... 

“You’re lying,” said Neil. 

Andrew shrugged, like he didn’t care whether Neil believed him or not. “She was beating my brother and hooked him on drugs. Your turn.” 

“I.....” Neil studied the blond. If he was lying, he was very good at it. Neil couldn’t detect even the slightest change in his breathing or any tells that would say otherwise. “Wine. I’m going to poison wine.” 

“How very sixteenth century of you,” Andrew mocked, smirking. 

“How did you kill your mother?” asked Neil, feeling retaliatory after Andrew’s jab. The man obvious thought him incompetent. 

“Car accident. She was already high. I just....steered us in the right direction.” 

“....You crashed a car you were in. On purpose. And you’re mocking my plan that you don’t even know the details of?” 

Andrew flicked his fingers. “I have only known you for a few hours but in that time you have stolen from me, gotten caught, come to my home, alone, without telling anyone, and drank something given to you by a stranger.” 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Neil said defiantly. But it was also true. As threatening as Andrew’s presence seemed, the instinct to run or fight simply wasn’t there anymore. 

“Oh? You might be interesting after all,” said Andrew. 

And then he stood, smirk more pronounced now, and tapped his own collar twice. The mottled brown and black cat (the smaller of the two) leapt impressively from the floor to land on Andrew’s shoulder. As the feline curled around his neck and settled in, Andrew made his way towards the door, gesturing for Neil to follow. 

When they reached the exit, Andrew opened it, kicking lightly in the direction of the other cat who was hovering around the foyer. 

“You’re letting me go?” Neil asked in surprise, toeing into his sneakers, still slotted against where he’d left them. 

“You are not a prisoner,” said Andrew. “But our little game isn’t over. I still expect answers.” 

“Fine,” he said, yanking the laces tight and standing. He sent Andrew a mild glare before brushing past him to the porch. “But you’re not getting the answers for free.” 

He just needed time to think. To figure out how to beat Andrew at his own game. 

“Goodnight, _Neil_ ,” said Andrew, bringing two fingers to his temple and saluting. The cat on his shoulder chirped. 

Without another word, Neil hurried down the porch towards his car. Now that he was free, his heart rate picked up, thudding in his chest now that the adrenaline was released. He was fine. Andrew knew something...but it was fine. It would all be....just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I can't wait to show you more of the beautiful art that inspired this fic!


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